


A King's Command

by Only_Jonsa



Series: My Brother, My Alpha, My King [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Mating Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_Jonsa/pseuds/Only_Jonsa
Summary: Another longer drabble, this time from Sansa's POV.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: My Brother, My Alpha, My King [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128032
Comments: 20
Kudos: 89





	A King's Command

Sansa was aware of the looks her family gave her as she joined them for dinner. She had been absent for some time, imprisoned by her mother for the best part of a sennight and unable to eat any of the food she delivered, too busy writing in pain.

Now that the burning had left her, her appetite had returned with full force and she found herself eating heartily as her mother averted her gaze, Arya scowled, and her younger brothers fidgeted awkwardly.

They did not know what to make of this new Sansa, and the truth was she had no words to explain the change that had come upon her to bring them any comfort.

Jon was her brother, albeit her half-brother. She was never supposed to present as an omega whilst he remained the alpha of their pack and an unmated one at that. The gods had always prevented such unions in the past, and yet there was no mistaking that he was hers just as she was his. Their marks and bond had proven it beyond any doubt.

The mating that had taken place the day before had brought her more pleasure and relief than anything she had ever imagined in the arms of a man, and although she had given her maiden’s gift to one that she could never marry, and despite that their actions being considered a sin against the gods, she could not find it in her heart to care.

She was whole again, better than whole even. She was bound to Jon, mated and one with her alpha. She was full, both with joy and now a surprising amount of meat and mead, which she had consumed in a most unladylike manner, whilst her family looked on with shock and alarm.

She thought Arya ought to be proud of her wolf-like behaviour, but it was clear she was not; too horrified, no doubt, that her favourite brother had mated with the sister she constantly found fault with, and whom she loathed as much as she loved.

Sansa ought to feel an outcast or perhaps even ashamed, but she did not, not even when her mother had found her coming out of Jon’s rooms at dawn and dragged her to the sept to pray to the merciful Mother for forgiveness.

She found did not care when she had found Robb passed out drunk outside near her chambers on her way back to the keep, nor when he eventually roused from his stupor to explain that the drinking had been entirely unnecessary, feeling only Jon’s relief and happiness even before his drunken haze had come upon him.

Jon had considered it best that he and Robb refrain from joining them at the table this evening, preferring to take food in his war rooms and ponder battle strategy instead. Sansa missed him terribly and couldn’t wait for the night to come upon them, so she could find his chambers once more.

She didn’t know how long Jon and the pack would remain at Winterfell, for there was a war calling them South. She was greedy for as much time with her mate as possible before he was forced to leave her behind.

She shuddered to think of the South and the future that might have awaited her there, had her father not had his terrible dreams after Bran’s fall. She could have been wed to Joffrey instead, her omega marking coming upon her too late and her mate being lost to her at the Wall. She imagined they would have both died that way and it made sense too, for Starks always died when they went South. Just like her grandfather, her uncle and now her father. 

She missed her father more than she could say. It was right that the Northmen declare war and fight for justice for their previous alpha and Lord. He had been good and noble and yet he had died at the behest of another madman, one who many said was born of incest, much like the mad King before him.

The thought of brothers and sisters having children born to madness made her stomach churn and the meat and meat threaten to make its way back out of her body. She could not think that way. No son of hers would be like Joffrey. He would be like Jon, whom she had not always loved as she ought, but who had always been brave, gentle, and strong. He was the best of them all; it was why the gods had chosen him to be the alpha.

“Sansa, is something wrong?” her mother asked anxiously. “You look quite unwell,” she added.

“I believe I might have eaten and drunk a little too much and a little too quickly,” Sansa admitted.

Arya scoffed and Rickon snickered. Bran looked thoughtful; he always looked that way now.

“I believe you did. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that way. Although I suppose it is normal, considering. I remember my first sennight as your father’s omega. I could have eaten a horse. Although, of course, that was different,” she frowned, clearly despising the comparison.

Her mother’s omega mark had once matched her Uncle Brandon’s, but they had not mated and after his death, her father’s skin had taken on the same shape, allowing them to mate and marry. Not many women from the Riverlands had markings like hers, for they had turned from the old gods a long time ago; she had been special.

Her mother had known, when she had presented, that she was destined to marry in the North, but she had struggled to accept the ways of the old gods, despite earning their favour. Sansa was sure she hated them entirely now.

“I think I should go and rest,” Sansa lied, knowing that she had no desire to do anything restful once she joined Jon in his chambers.

“Yes, I think that’s best,” her mother agreed, although the sigh she let out afterwards made it clear that she did not believe her.

Sansa left the table abruptly, eager to get away and back to Jon. Each member of her family watched her sudden departure with a mixture of disbelief and disdain, except Bran, who looked deep in contemplation instead. There was something markedly different about her little brother since the fall, but then again, she had changed now too. Perhaps they all had.  
____________

“Goodnight Robb,” Sansa announced on entry. Her older brother looked up at her with a frown, unused to being dismissed by anyone other than his alpha. He remained seated in protest.

“You are welcome to stay, but you will not like what you see if you do,” she continued.

With a grimace from Robb and a nod from Jon, they were soon left alone, but not before Robb made a curious parting remark, “Don’t forget that we need an ally, and you must choose the one with the stronger claim.” 

“What did he mean?” Sansa enquired, although conversation was already proving difficult with the urge to remove both her clothing and his immediately.

“Stannis is rid of his brother and is declaring himself the rightful King instead of Joffrey, whilst a Targaryen from Slaver’s Bay is declaring herself Queen of the 7 Kingdoms. They both want to see the Lannister line ended and are looking to the North for an ally.”

“So, you must decide whether to answer a King’s command or a Queen’s. Will either of them grant us our independence?” Sansa asked, her logic not failing her as it surely ought to, what with her alpha so near and looking so regal and Northern.

Ruling suited him, she decided. She considered she ought to make him a cloak like the one her father wore and perhaps even commission a crown.

“I think it is unlikely either of them will agree to a Northern Kingdom, especially one with a bastard King,” he grumbled, his voice low and husky. His eyes roamed up and down her body, causing the hairs on her neck to stand to attention, just as his member seemed to do the same.

They needed to talk further but she also needed him inside her and fast.

“Let’s not think of war for a moment. I need you now,” she whined, too intoxicated by the look and smell of him to be embarrassed by the admittance.

“I need you too,” he declared, and it almost sounded as if the word need could be replaced with the word love, but surely, she was mistaken. The bond between them was strong but was there love already, beyond that of family?

There was no time to ponder it further, not with his mouth on hers and his strong body dragging her down to the floor. There would be no bed this time, she was sure, as she found herself on her hands and knees. She craned her neck around to kiss him more whilst he bunched up her dress, pushed her smallclothes aside and thrust himself inside her once again.

She knew they must surely look like wild animals, rutting together like this, but then his hands on her breasts and his tongue in her mouth made her feel wilder still. He was rougher than he had been last night, and she found she liked it. Their bodies moved together with vigour, their moans turning into growls.

After spending inside her, they carefully made their way to the floor, laying down on their sides. She enjoyed him curled behind her like this, his knot preventing him from leaving her too soon. His strong arm reached around her and lower towards where they were still joined, his fingers rubbing circles there before coaxing those wonderful peaks and troughs from her again, just like waves crashing against a shore.

When his knot finally subsided and she was free to move, she turned to look at the steel grey eyes she knew all too well, for they belonged to a great many people she loved.

"How did you learn that? The way to please a woman, I mean. I know Robb and Theon have stolen kisses and more from some of the serving girls and that Theon visits the brothels at night, but I always thought you had not been like them. Have you accompanied him on his visits?” she asked unspeakably curious and unimaginably jealous at the thought that another woman had taught him these things.

“I learned by listening to others I suppose. I went to a brothel once, but I was unable to act on the impulse, too afraid of getting a bastard on a woman: too afraid of having a child like me,” he owned.

“You don’t imagine your mother was a whore, do you?”

“I don’t know. Father never said,” he added, wincing a little at the mention of the man who had sired them both, especially in the aftermath of what they had done, she supposed.

"And now I may get a bastard on you, only I desperately want to this time. It doesn’t make sense really. None of this,” he told her, his brow furrowed with confusion.

Her fingers smoothed down the lines she found there, wanting to go back to the bliss they shared before. She also knew there were commands to consider and choices to be made.

“Have you decided then? Which summons will you answer?”

“Stannis is a Baratheon and a good soldier. I believe it would be right to join with him: it is what father would have wanted. Once we get rid of the Lannisters, we can worry about the Targaryens. The woman, if she is who she says, is across the sea and poses no real threat to us. She offers no immediate help to our cause either. We shall fight in the South with Stannis.”

“Whatever you do, you must do better than all the other Stark rulers who have gone South before; you must not fall like they did.”

"You forget I am not a Stark, I am a Snow and I promise I will return to you. I will come home with our brother safe by my side and the knowledge that those who killed our father have been cut down. Ned Stark’s death will be avenged.”

There was something about the confidence with which he spoke, and the gruffness of his tone as he spoke of the vengeance she craved, that made Sansa want him to take her roughly once again. She wondered if she would ever get enough of her mate to satiate this newfound lust and if she would ever manage without him whilst he rode South to war.

Once they eventually had enough of each other’s bodies for the night and he had drifted off to sleep, she prayed that the old gods would watch over and protect the man she loved, for she was sure as she gazed upon his sleeping form that a deep abiding love was what she felt now, that of a woman for a man. It had presented itself much like the matching moon shaped mark on her chest: suddenly, certainly and permanently; an ever fixed mark.


End file.
